“I suppose it’s wrong not to. I spent the first year expecting she’d see it my way and come back full of love and apologies. That didn’t happen. Holidays, birthdays, nothing. So, when the first card came about two years later, I put it in a box, too angry to read it. I’ve done the same with the rest.”

“Even though they might be filled with love and apologies?”

“After two years of silence, it was my one act of teenage rebellion. I’m not angry anymore, but then, it felt too late. I liked my peaceful, drama-free existence. It suited me. Then, there was me and Ashe, and I feared she’d show up like a tornado, spinning out of control and ruin it.” She laughs weakly. “The irony, huh?”

She takes a breath, forcing a smile. “So, that’s me, Grady. The world’s biggest hypocrite.”

“Hypocrite? How?”

“For wanting to belong to a family but turning mine away,” she says.

“She left you no choice. She should’ve fought harder for you. This isn’t your fault.”

“Eh, she once told me that having a Valentine’s birthday meant I was cursed to be alone. She was right.”

“No, she wasn’t.”

Her hands tighten on mine. “She left on Valentine’s Day. You can’t tell me there’s nothing to it.”

“It’s a shitty coincidence. Bad things have happened, yes. But you deserve all the love in the world, and you’ll have it because you’re not alone anymore. So, please, tell me you aren’t buying that bullshit.”

She smirks slyly. “Ask me next Valentine’s Day.”

“Fine. I will.”

The server interrupts, asking if we need help picking up the game pieces. Feeling slightly bad, I gather the scattered plastic pieces from around our table and put the game back together. “Sorry, we’re fine.”

“Want to play again?” she asks.

“Yes, but not here.” I rise from my seat and extend my hand to her. “Come with me.”

37. Marnie

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Marnie

He takes me to the Riverwalk just in time for sunset, the orangey bands of sunlight blanketing the sky and making everything shimmer—the ripples on the Cape Fear river, the reflections off of cars heading over the bridge, even his eyes look amber in the light. He wraps me up from behind, snuggling me against him while we watch the sun’s descent, saying nothing. I love the silence. I’ve learned this about him over the last month when he’s appeared at my side, helping—with Grady, I don’t have to talk. I don’t have to engage or make people comfortable or keep conversations going like I used to do with the Sullivans.

With him, I can just be.

After what I’ve shared with him, watching the sunset is the perfect chaser.